Leaving Home

Tomorrow my next door neighbour’s daughter is leaving for university.  She is a lovely lass and I am sure she will do well.

We caught the train from St Ives to London, me and my Dad, and stayed overnight with my Aunty Joy.  In the morning we drove down to Kent in her purple mini.  I remember telling him to go, because more than anything I didn’t want him to leave me.  The anticipation of the parting pain was too much.  I sat on the institutional bed in my hall of residence room, all alone in the world and beside myself with terror and sorrow.  Then a tap at my door, and the smiling face of someone who was to become a friend for life.  An ally when I most needed it.  A threshold had been crossed.

I made Meg a bouquet of dried lavender flowers to take with her.   It may help.

10 thoughts on “Leaving Home

  1. I was a mature student (34 yrs old) and lived at home with my four young children, and became ‘mother’ to several young lads who really missed being at home (and their mums if truth be told), but after the first term they were fine. One or two were very excited that I had actually been to a Led Zeppelin concert!

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